


The Meadow

by superyuui



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2206494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superyuui/pseuds/superyuui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fai is recovering from a long illness, and isn't doing anyone any favours by running off alone the first chance he gets.</p>
<p>Short fluffy story, easing myself back into writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meadow

Kurogane was hot, tired, and he was more than certain that he smelled like cattle. The promise of a hot meal and a comfy chair was all too tempting, especially after recent events. A sideways look at Syaoran proved that the kid - the young man, now - felt entirely the same.

This was why, when the farmer’s wife caught up to them before they could get back to the farmhouse, he felt entirely justified at wanting to bite her head off, regardless of how ‘happy she was’ to have run into them.

“I was just going to find your friend. He left about an hour ago,” the farmer’s wife explained, looking simultaneously apologetic and worried, “I didn’t have time to stop him, with the dogs being the way they’ve-”

“It’s fine, really,” Syaoran said, hurrying to cut her off before she could say anything that would worsen Kurogane’s thunderous scowl. “I’m sure we can find him in no time.” He wouldn’t have gone too far.  _Couldn’t_ have gone too far.

Fai had been ill for weeks, suffering a scorching fever and flashes of deliriousness, and an intense rattling cough that left him with a raw throat that wheezed when he breathed. It had been a huge relief for those around him when the fever finally broke and his body stopped rejecting food and medicine.

Fai was out of the woods, but was still weak, and - supposedly - bedridden.

And now he was running around in the woods. Alone.

The farmer’s wife - Polly, or Posey, or something - glanced down at the travel mug she was wringing in her hands before offering it to Syaoran. His reassurance had done nothing to calm the stricken expression off of her rosy-cheeked face.

“I made chicken soup for him - oh!”

“I’ll take it,” Kurogane interrupted, having taken the flask from her before Syaoran could. He was furious, his insides burning.

“He, uh, probably went towards the lake,” the farmer’s wife said, gesturing off into the distance, “he said this morning that he could hear the geese.”

“Right.”

Fai was, at least, going to get yelled at, and if Kurogane had to yell at a sick man, he’d rather do it in private. Kurogane turned to Syaoran, fully intending to stare him down.

Instead, Syaoran sighed and waved him on, too tired to even pretend to argue. The kid seemed pretty annoyed at Fai, too, which was good for Kurogane.

He was going to wring that careless bastard’s neck regardless of Syaoran’s consent or not, but it was morally easier with it than without it.

-

“Oh, now, don’t look at me like that,” Fai said, before Kurogane could even begin to chew him out for running off while seriously ill -  _again_ .

Kurogane had found him in a nearby meadow, sat amongst the long grasses and wild flowers, the late afternoon sun throwing more colour onto his pale face than Kurogane had seen in weeks. The sound of Fai’s voice, still dry and croaky but miraculously present and sharp - like it  _should_ be - deflated his rage like a pin in a balloon.

“I told you to stay in bed,” Kurogane griped, lacking all of the bite he’d worked up during his search.

“I know,” Fai nodded, sighing deeply, “I’ll just stay a little longer. The fresh air’s good for me.”

It wasn’t a question, and Kurogane didn’t answer. He sat on the cushiony grass behind Fai, who leaned back and relaxed heavily against him. The small amount of body fat and muscle the man had had before had thinned further - the thick woollen jumper that was initially attractively baggy was now hanging from him, just about covering both shoulders at the same time but still showing an inch or so too much of translucent, waxy skin.

“You smell like a farm yard,” Fai chuckled quietly, his head tucked under Kurogane’s chin.

“You’d smell like it too if you’d worked a day since you got here,” Kurogane shot back, his earlier anger replaced by delicate playfulness, and Fai thumped him weakly on the arm.

“Not my fault,” Fai said, “though, from now on, I promise I’ll try not to get drunk and lost in the snow in a strange world again. Probably.”

“‘ _Probably_ ’ ?” Kurogane echoed incredulously. Fai laughed in earnest then, and Kurogane felt a little bit miffed at how easily he was joking about what had been a very stressful evening that, in itself, was followed by a very stressful illness.

Fai’s laughing died down, and then he was quiet for so long that Kurogane thought he must have fallen asleep. The sky flared orange as the sun began its descent, and a warm breeze played with flyaway strands of Fai’s hair.

“Was Poppy worried?” Fai asked, when Kurogane himself was almost dropping off to sleep.

“Who?”

“The farmer’s wife.”

“Oh,”  _Poppy, Posey, same thing._ “She was beside herself,” he said, dropping the previously forgotten travel flask in Fai’s lap, “she made soup to try and coax you back home.”

“Oooh, what flavour?” Fai asked eagerly, unscrewing the lid and peering in. He tried taking a sniff, but his nose still sounded incredibly stuffed up, and Kurogane doubted he could smell anything.

“Chicken.”

Fai took a sip and shuddered.

“It’s gone cold,”

“Well, you shouldn’t have run off.” Kurogane chided. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he glanced down at Fai, who was writing small glowing symbols in the air with a finger. “Hey-!”

Fai ignored him and took another gulp of the soup. “Toasty,”

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” Kurogane hissed.

“Nobody saw me,”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Fai shrugged, still looking down into the soup, which was now steaming lightly.

“I know.”

Kurogane groaned inwardly in exasperation, and let his head drop softly against the back of Fai’s head. Blond hair tickled his nose and eyelids, and smelled like sweat and bedsheets.

“Creating heat is nothing, really,” Fai murmured, working his spare hand into Kurogane’s flesh-and-blood one, threading their fingers together, “it’s apprentice-level magic, at best.”

Kurogane exhaled through his nose in a huff, squeezing Fai’s hand. “Is that why you’re shivering and burning up at the same time?”

Fai hushed him, the sound echoing into the soup.

“Just a little longer.”


End file.
